


Game Night

by freckles42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 00:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1531247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckles42/pseuds/freckles42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's two night stay turns into two months, then half a year, and then much, much more.</p><p>Written for lj user floweringjudas for the 2008 hp_springsmut fic exchange.</p><p>NB: The original had an additional smutty section, which I have opted to edit out, as it simply didn't fit the rest of the story's feel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [floweringjudas (manipulant)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manipulant/gifts).



"Just for two nights, Percy, _please_ ," Harry said, a small bag over his shoulder, eyes puffy and bloodshot. He stood on the first step of Percy's small stoop, getting mud all over his immaculately clean doormat. Even the rain couldn't make Harry's hair lie completely flat; bits of it were sticking up in chunks, pointing almost accusingly at the low clouds that continued to pour mercilessly. Harry wiped uselessly at his eyes and sucked in a huge, almost sick-sounding snuffle through his nose. Percy looked away uncomfortably and coughed. He did not like to see grown men crying or – so help him – begging. The only way to stop it, though, was to let Harry in.

He sighed and stepped aside in silent invitation, feeling more warmth from his small flat escape through the open door.

"Oh, cheers, Percy, you're a mate," Harry said, shoulders relaxing in relief as he stepped inside. He toed off the muddy shoes and kicked them under the little table Percy used for his mail and keys, the rubber and mud making a strange squelching noise as they hit the wood. It took everything in Percy's being not to bend over and straighten Harry's shoes and clean off the mud from his freshly-cleaned floor. Instead he started for the kitchen.

"Tea?" he asked, already reaching for the ugly yellow teapot his mother had given him for Christmas. He did not know why she'd bought the ugly, wretched thing (it had green polka dots, for Merlin's sake – green _polka dots_. Green!), but he was obligated to use it. And – so help him – for some reason, tea that he brewed in that teapot tasted infinitely superior to anything that his _other_ teapot could produce. He was halfway convinced his mother had put a charm on the multicoloured monstrosity, just to force him to use it.

"Please," Harry said, standing at the threshold to the kitchen, glasses half-foggy from the sudden warmth. The hem of his jeans was a motorway for the water rivulets running off him, puddling under the heel of his sock and threatening to slip over onto the tile. He was going to _ruin_ Percy's floor.

Gritting his teeth, Percy busied himself with the tea, measuring out loose leaf and starting the water to boiling. 

"I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing here," Harry ventured after another minute of Percy deliberately ignoring him.

"The thought _had_ crossed my mind," he replied, finally turning to face Harry, whose glasses were finally clearing up. "But there's also the matter that you've dripped all over my entryway. Plus, you look absolutely soaked, which cannot be comfortable, and no amount of tea is going to fix that."

Harry glanced behind him at the trail of water, then down at his feet. "Good point," he agreed, shifting from foot to foot. An uncomfortable-sounding, wet, whooshing sound made Percy bite into the inside corner of his lip.

"The restroom," he said pointedly, "is just to your left."

Harry seemed to get the cue and disappeared into the WC. Percy sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose, quickly running through his options. He liked Harry well enough, of course, but they'd never been close. They hadn't interacted as peers until after the War ended, and even that had been limited mostly to Sunday dinners at the Burrow and the occasional Order meeting. Why Harry had sought him out tonight was beyond him, but so be it. He could put him up for a night or two (after all, the sofa transfigured into a bed relatively easily), but after that – well, Percy valued his privacy. He _liked_ being alone, no matter how much his mother insisted it wasn't natural. Nearly two decades of always having to share with older _and_ younger siblings in a house with parchment-thin walls made him revel in the comfortable silence of his own place.

He never had to wait his turn to use the toilet or the shower anymore. He could use up all the hot water (not that he ever did, of course – he was not wasteful – but the _potential_ was there). 

Two days, and that was it. 

Harry emerged from the restroom looking _much_ more put-together in a change of clothes. "I set things up to dry over the sink," he said conversationally, leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb and watching as Percy picked up a pot holder and wrapped it around the handle of the teapot, pouring it into two teacups he'd already pulled down.

"That's fine. Two sugars, yes?" Percy asked in response, reaching for the porcelain sugar bowl he kept handy. He was fairly certain Harry's clothes were probably _dripping_ all over his floor but at least it was tile this time.

"Yeah," he said, moving a step towards Percy, hand extending to take the teacup. "Wait, are those _sugar cubes_?" he asked, already laughing. Percy paused mid-motion, two cubes held tight in the little metal teeth of the prongs. 

"Yes," he said, fixing Harry with a steely look, daring him to make some smart comment about spinsters or doilies. So help him, he'd fling these cubes right at Harry's face if he said a word. Harry seemed to get the message and he seemed to think better of it, holding up his hands in surrender. "Four cubes, then, please."

"Blasphemy," Percy muttered, but dropped the cubes into Harry's tea and handed him the cup on a saucer. "And I will have you know that sugar cubes don't make the same sort of mess that loose sugar does."

"Ah, tidiness," Harry said knowingly, accepting the tea by the saucer and stirring it. "You always were the tidy one."

"Well, someone had to be," Percy sniffed.

"I've seen Fred and George's room," he replied, taking a cautious sip of his drink, then another one, eyes wide. "Merlin's elbow, this is good," he said, eyebrows going up.

"That's not a room," Percy said, forcing back a shudder. "It's a foetid pit. Even my mother doesn't dare venture in there without her wand, and they've not lived at the Burrow in years. And thank you," he said, nodding as he drank his own tea.

"Fourteen new forms of life and counting," Harry quipped in reply.

"Only fourteen?" Percy responded dryly. 

Harry let out a genuine little laugh at that. 

"Knew you could be funny if you wanted to be," he said, smiling. 

"Yes, well, it's my atrocious temper that's to blame, you know," Percy said, tipping his head towards the parlour. "As much as I enjoy standing by my little stove, let's have a seat and you can tell me why in Merlin's name you decided to turn up on my door instead of any of my siblings." He was already turning towards the little sitting area that he liked to call his parlour, but he caught a funny little look on Harry's face out of the corner of his eye. He ignored it and instead fussed with the pillows on his chair before finally sitting down.

"Ron and I had a fight," Harry said. 

Percy frowned. "A fight," he repeated. "And so you're _here?_ " He slid his fingers along the rim of his teacup, waiting for an explanation.

Harry sighed and looked away, seeming to take a great interest in the wallpaper Percy had put up (which had taken three tries to figure out how to apply, thank you). 

"I told him something and he got really angry and told me to get out. Let's see, Fred and George would badger me until I told them all the details. Bill and Charlie are kind of hard to get a hold of and – well, Charlie might get it and Bill might help me drink until I forgot, but I don't really want to hunt them down."

"What about Ginny? It's not like she wouldn't let you stay over," he replied, immediately wincing at the double negative. Harry grimaced and looked down at his knees.

"Actually, she probably wouldn't," he said. "Seeing as how I broke up with her earlier today."

"You did _what?_ " Percy said, feeling a shock travel along his nerves. "Oh no, Harry, _no_ , you can't do that. Not again." He'd heard the stories of Ginny and Harry's first breakup. While he hadn't been impressed, he certainly had understood the motivations behind it. This time, though, without a Horcrux hunt to excuse Harry, Percy doubted his fiery sister would be quite so forgiving.

"I did it, Percy, and I don't think she'll take me back this time." He glanced up at Percy, a surprisingly even look on his face. "I don't want her to. You see, I told her I was gay."

Percy felt every muscle in his body tense.

"I see."

He could see in the way Harry's face twisted then dropped that this was not the reaction he'd been expecting. But what was Percy supposed to do? The whole topic was uncomfortable and he had zero desire to discuss something so _intimate_ with Harry.

"The sofa's yours for two nights," Percy said, standing and quickly returning his teacup to the kitchen. "Most things in the flat are pretty self-explanatory. I leave for work rather early, so –" He hurried to his bedroom. "Good night."

"It's only eight-thirty," Harry pointed out, looking both hurt and slightly bewildered and almost like a small child, the way he was sitting cross-legged on the sofa. "Also, you just had half a cup of tea."

"Good night," Percy repeated firmly and shut the door behind him.

*** * ***

Two nights somehow turned into seven, which turned into a thirty-one, which turned _one hundred and nineteen_.

Guess how many times Percy had found Harry dank, damp towel slung over Percy's neatly folded towel?

One hundred and eighteen.

Not that he was keeping track. It was just that he hadn't managed to use a dry towel in nearly four months and it was starting to wear on him.

*** * ***

**Day 120**

Percy came up with a cunning plan. He decided he would beat Harry to the shower and then the Boy-Who-Lived could deal with _his_ towel being slightly damp. Percy smirked, cinching his careworn robe tighter about his waist. Oh yes, the day would be his and he would be victorious. No more damp towels for him! 

He quietly slipped out into the hall and took a few steps along the too-cool floor towards the bathroom, then stopped mid-step. He frowned.

He cocked his head and frowned more, brow wrinkling.

The shower was running. It was already running and _he was not in it._

Percy felt something in him snap. How could Harry be such an ungrateful guest? First the towels, now usurping his shower. It didn't matter that it was unintentional; Percy liked his order and he simply was _done_ with this chaos. He'd put up with it far too long, really. His fingers were digging into his palms and he decided he would just _wait_. He would wait and tell Harry directly and he would _not_ put up with damp towels or this _defilement_ of his personal space.

Seven minutes and twelve seconds later ( _not_ that Percy was counting, mind you), the door cracked open, steam billowing out into the cool of the hallway. Percy took a step back to avoid the rush of moisture, one hand clutching the fabric of his robe closed at his chest.

"Oh, hello, Percy," Harry said cheerfully, peering at him and blinking myopically before putting his glasses on. His lips curled into an almost-smug smile, as if he knew how much he was driving Percy mad. 

"Yes, hello, Harry," Percy replied with an edge in his voice. His eyes flicked down to Harry's bare chest and down to the teasing trail of hair disappearing beneath his trousers – had the man no shame? He was fit from Auror training, to be sure, but that was no reason to – to _show off_.

Wait, why was he thinking about the state of Harry's chest or - _anything else?!_ Eyes up, Percy!

He returned his gaze to Harry's face (taking far more willpower than he cared to admit). Eyes on the prize; he couldn't forget why he was there.

"Did you leave your towel on top of mine again?" he asked, voice tight, flicking his eyes towards the steam-laden room behind Harry. "You know, when you do that, it makes it _annoyingly damp._ " Harry looked even more amused, eyes crinkling and mouth curling up even more. 

"I did, as there's only room for one towel on the towel rack," he admitted, smiling, crossing his arms across his chest. "And are you a wizard, or aren't you?"

"I beg your pardon?" Percy replied stiffly, wanting to shout at Harry to put on a shirt, _please_ , there is no reason to go about shirtless. His long-looking arm muscles were distracting Percy unnecessarily and it wasn't right.

"I said, aren't you a wizard?" Harry uncrossed his arms and dug in his trousers for his wand, which he pointed at the towels. "If it bothers you, then do a drying spell." He flicked his wand and steam began wafting off the damp, poorly hung towel. Now Percy just felt like a fool. Why had he been putting up with it for so many months?

"Hmph." He made a noise in the back of his mouth. He squared his shoulders. "Well, yes, thank you for that, Harry. Now, if you'll _excuse me_ …" He stepped forward, meaning to force Harry to step aside. Harry didn't, though, and so Percy has to slide past him, robe nearly catching on Harry's trousers, coming face to face with his grin briefly before greeting it with a frown of his own.

"Steady on, Percy," Harry said, hands going to Percy's waist to guide him past.

Percy recoiled as if burned and stumbled backwards into the bathroom, palm flying out automatically and hitting the door. It bounced against Harry's shoulder as Percy caught himself against the sink. Harry took a step towards him, hand extending as if to offer help.

"Don't-" he gasped, getting a firmer grip on the sink and righting himself. "Just – don't touch me."

Harry was the one frowning now. "All right," he said slowly, hand lowering. "All right. I'll just go make some breakfast, then." He closed the bathroom door before Percy could protest.

What was wrong with him? He shook his head to try to clear it, then turned his attention to the shower and the promise of the bliss of searing, hot water.

After finishing the shower, he opted to dash back to his room and change. He quickly made his way out of the house after he was done, shouting some excuse about an early meeting he'd forgot. It was a lie, of course, and when he glanced over his shoulder he could see the hurt in Harry's eyes.

His stomach twisted.

*** * ***

_Two months later..._

"Q-A-T-S," Percy said with a satisfied smug, setting each tile down victoriously.

"'Qats,'" Harry repeated suspiciously, eyes narrowing at the word on the board.

"It's a valid word, you know. And it's on a triple word score, and the S ends another word," Percy pointed out, tallying the points in his head. "That's fifty-four points for me." He made a precise notation on the score sheet.

"I hate this game," Harry said miserably, rearranging his letters for the _n_ th time.

"You're the one who suggested it," Percy replied, drawing four more tiles from the little bag. "I've never even played before." He had to admit he was a little gleeful at the score – and this was truly a fantastic Muggle game. Words! A game of words and points and it was something he was good at.

Harry rubbed at his forehead, scooting farther forward in his chair, chewing at his lip as he thought. He picked up four letters and lay them down on the board, blushing slightly as he did.

"'Vulva,'" Percy said primly. "Well, it's a word." He added the points to Harry's score, refusing to blush. Then he took another look at his tiles and groaned.

"What is it?" Harry said, arching his neck around to look.

"You won't believe this," Percy said, turning red. "I swear I didn't pull them this way. And don't peek!" He swatted at Harry, who retreated with a grin. Percy looked at the board and found a place to lay the tiles.

"P-H-A-L-L-U-S," he said, putting each one down carefully. "That's a – what did you call it?"

"Bingo," Harry supplied, just staring at the board.

"Ah, yes. A bingo. Extra fifty points to me, on top of the… 16 points for the word itself. Oh, and another eight for making JAW plural." He moved to give himself another seventy-two points.

"Phallus."

"Yes, Harry, it's a word, just like 'vulva,' can we move on?" Percy didn't want to talk about the words or their meanings at this point. The game was going his direction (okay, he was _annihilating_ Harry at 283 to 108) and, frankly, sexual words were not really very interesting to him.

"Are you gay?" Harry blurted out.

Percy went fiery red. "I beg your pardon?!" he sputtered. "I fail to see how that is _any_ of your business."

"It's just that you don't _ever_ have girls over and I've always thought you might be, you see, which is _really_ why I came here. I thought you'd get it. But you didn't say anything to me then and you haven't said anything to me since." Harry furiously pushed his glasses back up his nose. "And I just – I have to know."

"It's not your place to inquire," Percy shot back, standing, fists clenching. "I've been gracious enough to allow you to invade my space and my privacy and _everything I do_ for the past six months, and all I ask in return is a little consideration and _no questions about my personal life!_ " He couldn't believe Harry's gall. This was ridiculous! How _dare_ he!

"If it's bothered you so much, then why did you let me stay?" Harry retorted, getting to his feet as well. "Why not kick me out after that first week? I thought you _wanted_ me here, that you _needed_ me here."

"Need you!" Percy forced a laugh, stepping closer to Harry, meaning to intimidate him (how he was going to do that at a gangly six foot three and 11 stone soaking wet, he didn't know. Height, he supposed). Harry just stepped in closer.

Too close.

"Yeah," Harry said as Percy realised his mistake. Harry's breath was warm on his face and Percy suddenly _knew_ what was about to happen. He didn't want it. He _couldn't_ want it. After all, Harry and Ron were best mates and last he checked, Ginny was still ready to castrate anyone who thought about looking at Harry.

"I - _don't_ ," he protested, face still flushed. 

"Yes, you do," Harry replied. "Why else would you keep me around?" Harry didn't give Percy time to respond, though, and he jumped up and pressed his lips against his, teeth clacking against each other. Percy let out a muffled, startled noise and pushed Harry off of him.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?!"

"Don't be stupid, Percy." Harry took another step towards him. Percy didn't retreat. Harry seemed to take this as an invitation, fingers curling around Percy's wrists and tugging him close. Percy didn't fight it this time, letting Harry kiss him, despite the voice in his head shouting that this was a bad idea. Instead, Percy shoved that voice aside and closed his eyes, letting himself kiss Harry back. It was tentative at first, trying to focus on the sensations rather than thinking about how long it had been since he'd kissed _anyone_ (three years. Oh, Merlin, three years too long!). He found his arms around Harry's back as he deepened the kiss, neck aching from having to drop his head so much.

Okay, so maybe Harry had a point.

He finally broke the kiss. "Don't," he said, breathing hard, "tell me you did this just to avoid losing the game."

Harry let out a loud laugh at that.

"And if I did?" he replied with an impish grin, finger hooking into a buttonhole on Percy's shirt.

"Rematch," Percy said easily, pulling him in for another kiss.


End file.
